Redeemer of Shadows

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “I’m sorry.” Hathor went to her aunt and hugged her. “How was your trip? Is everyone all right?”

  “Ah, Doris sent the grandkids home early. She couldn’t stand to be away from Joseph to care for them. The illness seems to be playing harder on her than him. It’s sad really. They’ve been married since she was sixteen and have never spent a full day apart.” Georgia watched as Hathor lifted her bags for her. “Just leave them, dear. Come. Let us go have a cup of coffee. Joseph drinks nothing but tea.”

  Hathor laughed. In that preference, she and her aunt were the same. She followed Georgia to the kitchen. Already, she had a mug on the table. As Georgia sat, she got her aunt a cup.

  “So what’s the matter?” Georgia asked, as Hathor sat down. “You look as if you’ve cried your eyes out of your head.”

  At the words, Hathor’s eyes began to tear again. She dashed at the moisture in frustration.

  “Is it as bad as all that?” Georgia inquired softly. She reached her old, weathered hands across the table to touch her niece’s. Holding the young palms in her own, she asked, “Servaes?”

  “Yes.” Hathor sniffed, fighting the urge to cry harder. “He left me.”

  “I see,” Georgia answered. Patiently she waited for the explanation.

  “I love him,” Hathor blurted. “And we can’t be together—ever.”

  “Is this one married?”

  “I wish he were,” Hathor moaned. “I could handle it if he were married.”

  “I see.” Georgia sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Is he a vampire like you said he claims to be, then?”

  “What?” Hathor shot in amazement. “Why?”

  “So, vampire?” Georgia looked a little surprised.

  “You can’t actually believe—”

  “Why not? You are a horrible liar and I saw the stunned truth on your face the second I said it.” Georgia broke in. “So either you became a very good actress—unlikely—or you’re dating a vampire. Who am I to judge? I have never had proof vampires don’t exist. It is foolish to believe that we are the only creatures God has made. I do know such phenomena can occur. My mother was very sensitive to such things. She spoke often with the dead. I even saw her a few times after she died.”

  “But you never said—”

  “What would I say about it? It was as natural as a tree growing or a bird flying. Besides, people don’t want to hear of such things these days. They like to believe that they are it. Science and technology is what comforts them.” Georgia’s eyes shone bright with understanding. “So, if you say he’s a vampire, then he is one.”

  “He is,” Hathor answered, amazed that her aunt would accept it so easily. She refused to mention the whole spiritualistic paranormal investigating movement that had taken over society in recent years. Her aunt probably didn’t bother keeping up with pop culture. She’d been so sure the older woman would’ve had her committed for thinking her boyfriend a vampire. “I know he is and I have seen others. They wanted me dead, and he saved me.”

  If Georgia was shocked, she never showed it. “All right, now that we have established what he is, tell me why you can’t be with him.”

  “He’s a vampire,” Hathor stated, as if those single words could describe everything she felt. “He feeds on humans, drinks our blood. It’s not just that. There is loneliness in him so extreme it pains me to feel it. This is crazy.”

  “Is there a way for him to become human again?”

  Hathor shook her head. “I would have to become like him. I would have to give up everything.”

  “And?” the old woman prompted, as she watched the young girl’s agony. “You don’t want to?”

  “I want to, but…” Hathor’s eyes shone bright with confusion. “You remember that man, Franklin, with the kiddy porn, who disappeared? Well, that was Servaes. He killed the guy and took the child back to her mother. I danced with him that same night in the garden. He told me he had Franklin, a bad man, for supper. I thought it was a strange vampire joke to make me laugh. But then, the next day at the parlor…and there are others, so many others. He showed them to me, he let me see what he has done. The first night I saw him, he had a woman on stage who had drowned her five children and blamed it on a maid.”

  “What, Mrs. Lerrington? That was just on the news. They said she killed herself because she went crazy after losing her children. They found her body in the Thames.” Georgia shook her head. “You mean she killed those poor babies?”

  Hathor gulped and nodded. She placed a balled fist before her lips to keep from crying. The sound of the children’s tears still echoed in her head—haunting her.

  “Then I say she got what she deserved. Good for him. I hope the woman suffered,” Georgia announced. “Go to him if you love him. Be with him.”

  “But the killings, the blood,” Hathor exclaimed.

  “God save us from the likes of Franklin and that woman. And maybe he is. Did you ever think of that? There is purpose in your love for Servaes. God does not create love without purpose. There is purpose in everything, though we might not see it. Go to him. Go to Servaes. If he can’t join you, join him. Maybe your purpose is to end his loneliness. Maybe that is the role chosen for you. His heart has to be good if you love him. I know yours is.” Georgia stood slowly, crossing over to the window. Her motions were strained as she rubbed her hands together. When Hathor didn’t speak, she whispered, “Man’s punishments are not always fair when it comes to crimes. The bad seeds are not always convicted. And the richer the man, the better his chances are of getting off. Maybe this is God’s way of evening the odds.”

  “But he has already left me. He didn’t come back last night, and he left me a note telling me not to follow him. He said to forget him, that he was dead to me.” Hathor’s tears again trailed over her cheeks.

  “Vampire or human, a man is a man. And men have pride aplenty. My guess is that he saw your natural reaction to his life and—”

  “You’re right, Georgie,” Hathor broke in, smiling timidly for the first time in days. Hope glistened through her tears. “But how do I find him? He won’t be at the club again. I know he left there.”

  “Go to the areas he is most likely to be. Call to him with your heart. He will hear it and come to you. It is a dangerous thing you do, but there is danger in everything worth having. I can see you care for him.” Georgia smiled.

  “What time is it?” Hathor questioned, ready to run out the door in search for Servaes.

  “Not even noon. Now, why don’t you go clean yourself up? You don’t want to go to him looking like you’ve just come from a funeral.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Hathor agreed in distraction. Her mind raced with plans, ideas, what she would say to him when she saw him—if she saw him.

  I must find him, Hathor thought, as she ran from the kitchen. Her heart overflowed with joy. Georgia was right. The only thing that mattered was their love. I will find him. It’s meant to be. I love him. And somewhere deep inside, I know he loves me too.

  Servaes opened his dark eyes to stare grimly at the top of his coffin. His body didn’t move. He felt the earliness of the day, knowing he’d just laid down to rest. Again, the sound that disturbed him whispered over his prone body.

  “Servaes,” it called in a sweet voice that only brought him torture. The whispers wouldn’t stop, until he didn’t know if she called to him or his memories haunted him. “Servaes. Servaes. Servaes.”

  He knew Hathor waited for him. He’d watched her all night on her balcony—searching for him. He hadn’t gone to her, even when she leaned over the railing, feeling his nearness. She called to him, reached out into the darkness for him. He held back, swearing to himself that this was the last time he would go to her, promising his body he would no longer feel anything for her. His body cursed him for a liar, for every fiber in his being ached to possess her again. The smell of her was branded on his skin, the taste of her swirled like a healing draught in his blood.

  Every t
ime he thought to weaken and fly into her willing arms, he held back, forcing the memory of her abhorrence forth. She didn’t want what he was, and it wouldn’t be fair for him to force it on her. She deserved a life with a family and children and grandchildren. These were things he could never give her.

  Servaes would’ve left London to run away from her, but stayed only so he could convince Jirí she was harmless. Once he secured his maker’s word that Hathor would be safe, he would go.

  Paris, he thought, back to my homeland to see how it has changed. Mayhap to the chateau I once owned, now falling to ruin. Mayhap there I will be able to purge myself of the life we will never have.

  Closing his eyes and his heart, he used all his power to block out the sound of her call. The sound grew faint, until it disappeared to leave him in silence, “Servaes, Servaes, come back, no, Servaes…”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The fall wind turned bitter and cold, stinging across the quiet London back streets. Hathor ran past the blur of pavement and signs, lampposts, and the cloudy sparkles of moonlight that occasionally peeked in on the dark byways. She clutched her long jacket over her pounding heart, willing her feet onward. Her breath came out in white puffs of air, causing her lips to chap.

  She ignored the breathless pain in her lungs as she gasped for air. Her eyes darted to the alleyways and side paths, looking for any creature that might be of the world of the undead. The paths were eerily empty. It was as if the entire city slept.

  “Come on, where are you?” Hathor whispered, terribly out of breath. She was finally forced to slow to a walk. Pressing at the stitch in her side, she looked around, knowing the Vampire Club to be close. She hadn’t wanted to go there, knowing what had happened last time, but she was getting desperate. In her heart she truly believed that, if she were in trouble, Servaes would again come save her.

  As she once more began to walk, she didn’t notice the eyes that gathered from darkened shadows to watch her undetected. The onlookers hid themselves from her, blending with the walls, the lampposts, the side streets and alleys. Cloaked in the darkness, for they were of the darkness. The vampires watched her desperate search. They were curious about her intent, fearful of the resistance she had to them, and confused as to why she came back.

  Jirí told them not to worry about her, that he went to speak with the council, and that Servaes was in charge of keeping her away. But they all saw Servaes as he passed by the club to empty his chamber of his belongings. He was preparing to leave them, and the girl was still alive. She was again roaming too close to their homes.

  “We should kidnap her,” Lamar said callously. He came stealthily from the darkness to stand by Ginger. His gaze blackened with hate. “We should weaken her and wait for Jirí.”

  “We should kill her,” Ginger hissed, her eyes gleaming red. Her small nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air. “Servaes doesn’t watch her. We have a right to defend our homes, our kind.”

  “She is marked by Servaes,” Vincent spoke softly, coming to join them. He watched Hathor as she turned down a side alley. When she was from view, they stepped from the darkness and walked to follow behind her. Several others, hidden, came out to follow the trio. “This time there can be no mistake. You can smell him on her skin, in her blood. He has claimed her for himself. If we are to kill her, we will openly defy Servaes. If we are to kill her, we do it together this time. Each of us will have her blood on our tongues. The council will not punish us all for the life of one human who should’ve already been dead.”

  “Servaes is no one. He doesn’t matter,” Ginger vehemently seethed. “Jirí is probably gorging himself in the country. There is no council. It’s only a myth.”

  “Servaes is one of the old. Do not disregard that. What if he is angered?” Lamar whispered. “What if he comes to avenge her?”

  “Avenge the death of a blood being?” Ginger laughed, amused greatly by the very idea. “Tell me, Lamar, as a human, would you have avenged a chicken because it was overcooked by your chef?”

  Lamar growled in outrage. Vincent guffawed heartily, a mocking and cold sound made more so by the fact that it wasn’t he who was being ridiculed. Turning their attention back to the human, they watched as Hathor froze. Hearing their noise, she turned her head to where they stood. The vampires laughed harder as her fearful gaze passed over them. She visibly trembled and stumbled away. The sound of their pitiless voices echoed over the streets in a chorus of misfortune. Hathor spun around in circles, trying to penetrate the darkness with her eyes, unable to see them, only able to hear the laughter.

  “Shall we then?” Ginger inquired with a cocky tilt of her head.

  “Oh, let’s,” Vincent murmured, relishing his demonic thoughts. A nasty grin found his lips, as he urged, “Come, Lamar. I have tasted this one. You will enjoy her.”

  Lamar glared, still hurt by Ginger’s insult, but as the other two materialized before the frightened woman, he too let himself be seen. They stalked forward, the suddenness of their heavy footfalls catching her attention.

  Hathor gasped. Her head twitched back to them with a start. She watched the three very familiar figures manifest from nothing. Her heart pounded wildly. She saw the dead look in their black gazes.

  Spinning, she tried to run, but skidded to a stop as she saw more vampires gathering around her from the other side. Their bodies materialized out of darkened corners, leaped down from the rooftops, and even appeared to grow up from the dampened streets until she was surrounded by a mob of them. Clutching her jacket to her breasts, her heart screamed out for Servaes. She’d expected them to come for her if Servaes didn’t. She hadn’t expected there to be so many of them.

  Vincent, Lamar and Ginger drew closer. Hathor’s bottom lip began to tremble in mind-numbing fear. She shook her head. Vincent smiled at her, his eyes shining with a false fondness. Hathor grabbed her neck where he had bitten her. His grin widened, spreading like the plague over his demented features. Slowly, he nodded his head and flashed his spiked teeth.

  “Go away,” she whispered at last, shaking from head to toe. “Leave me be. I want nothing to do with you.”

  “It’s you who can’t leave us.” Ginger pouted like a spoiled child. Her British accent made her words very distinct and precise. “And here we thought you wanted to play with us again.”

  “I’m looking for Servaes,” Hathor stated, as bravely as she could manage. She jutted her chin into the night air. “I belong to him. Leave me be. Or else you’ll bring his wrath upon you.”

  “Oh, we can smell how you belong to him,” Ginger spat.

  Hathor froze, refusing to scream as the vampiress came near her. Ginger’s tongue flicked out, licking Hathor’s neck, over her ear to the side of the temple. Hathor shivered in disgust.

  Whispering, Ginger said, “I can taste him on your skin. Tell me, how much of you has he touched?”

  Ginger growled, circling around Hathor to tug off her jacket with a mighty jerk. The sleeves pinned her arms to her sides as the vampiress pulled. She eyed the mortal woman’s gray T-shirt, licking the tips of her fangs thoughtfully.

  “I can tell,” Lamar said. Instantly he was on his knees, pushing his nose to Hathor’s denim-covered thighs. Her jacket fell to the ground and her arms were freed. Hathor swatted desperately at Lamar’s head, trying to push his sniffing nose out from between her legs. Ginger grabbed her arms from behind, holding her still. Lamar laughed. The vibration of it hit against her hip. “He was definitely here. I smell him on your cunt.”

  “And here,” Vincent called, lifting her shirt up and pressing his nose into the valley of her warm breasts. She felt his tongue flick along her cleavage. She jerked back. Ginger held her tightly, her fingers digging into her flesh until bruises formed beneath her strong palms.

  “I’ll bet he’s been everywhere,” Ginger stated. Her hand traveled over Hathor’s backside to grasp it firmly.

  “Leave me alone,” Hathor ordered with a stern shake of her immobile body. Sh
e tried to hide her terror and failed. Her voice squeaked horribly, as she demanded, “Get your hands off of me!”

  “Or what?” Ginger taunted.

  “Oh, Gin. I believe she thinks herself too good for the likes of us.” Vincent pouted. “Our blood isn’t old enough for her.”

  “Is that it?” Lamar questioned. “Well maybe it’s because you haven’t tasted it.”

  “And she won’t either.” Ginger laughed.

  “Oh, but we’ll taste you,” Lamar said, nodding his head slowly. His hand reached up to brush her cheek. Hathor jerked her face from him.

  Ginger pressed the mortal woman’s arms ever more tightly to her sides so she couldn’t move. There were too many of them to fight or run from. Even if Hathor could shake Lamar from her legs and Vincent from her chest, she would never be able to run through the gathered crowd. She could still sense the other vampires behind her, watching the interplay quietly with avid interest. None there cared to save her. Their dark void of emotion grew around her—empty and sinister.

  “And,” Vincent added, “this time it won’t be gentle. This time, you’re going to feel it.”

  Instantly, all three lunged forward. Hathor screamed, fighting off her attackers. She might as well have been fighting a steel vice, for all her human punches and kicks affected the vampires.

  The vampires raised her above the ground as they drank. Ginger locked her teeth on Hathor’s throat. Vincent dove for her breasts. His teeth pierced through her T-shirt to drain blood directly from her chest, sinking near her heart with a white heat, latching tight so she couldn’t buck him off. Lamar grabbed her thigh, lifting her artery to his mouth rather than kneeling. He bit into the tender flesh of her leg, throwing the limb over his shoulder. Still the vampires around them only watched.

  Hathor felt the piercing greediness of their onslaught like knives tearing through her body. The more she fought them, the more their biting hurt and the deeper their embrace became. They sucked the energy from her, dazing her with the suddenness of it. Hathor kicked and pulled to no avail. They levitated her higher into the chilled night air.